The Defenders of Gondor
by Caranthol
Summary: A young soldier of Gondor experiences the disastrous battle against Easterlings in 1944 T.A. Rated M for violence in the chapter describing the battle, just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1: The Regiment’s Children

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien wrote

Disclaimer: I don't own anything J.R.R. Tolkien wrote whatsoever. Almost all the characters are my original creations, excepting King Ondoher, Minohtar and other people mentioned in the Unfinished Tales and Appendices of the LotR. This story is set in the year 1944 Third Age.

Chapter 1: The Regiment's Children

A shrill whistle was blown in the corridor, followed by a loud shout:

"Company, wake up!"

Ereg jumped to his feet almost before he had opened his eyes. He yawned as he looked around him dejectedly. How he hated that whistle! Every single morning began with its sound. With ten men turning on their beds constantly, snoring and mumbling in their sleep, eight hours just weren't enough to rest properly. He stretched his muscles and started to arrange his bed. Next to his bed Nárion, a smallish, wiry man with black hair and green eyes, sat up on his mattress.

"Good morning, Ereg!" he greeted, seeming to be only a little tired. Ereg only mumbled something inarticulate and took his uniform out of his wooden locker. Almost all men were already stirring, only two still in their beds. When Ereg started to pull his trousers on, a high, irritated voice shouted from the door opening:

"Get up, you lazy bums! This not an inn, to sleep all day!"

A tall man wearing the insignia of an ensign on his upper sleeve stepped inside. Now even the last man sprang up, as Ereg shouted attention. The ensign let his eyes cover whole the room as he wrinkled his long nose.

"You have a quarter an hour to wash and dress! The service uniform, as usual. After that, to formation on the front yard with rest of the company!" He turned and walked away, but stopped at the door and said over his shoulder:

"And open the window, it stinks like in an orc-den here!"

Then he strode out and left the still yawning men standing. Nárion humphed and said:

"Our kind ensign Belranc straight from Dol Guldur struck again! I guess he smelled himself."

"I'll bet he was too evil even for the Necromancer, that's why he is here" said a stocky, brown-haired man with a sigh. Ereg laughed and answered:

"You are right, Manceleb! But now we must hurry, if we want to wash before the others use all the water!"

They almost ran to the bathroom across the corridor, a yawning corporal staring dully at them. The neighbouring squad was there already, the soldiers cursing and elbowing each other. The water was again only tepid, the corporal on duty having not bothered to fetch enough fire-wood to warm it. After three hectic minutes Ereg had splashed his armpits and face and was putting his uniform on. It consisted of a dark grey tunic, a simple image of the White Tree embroidered on the right side of chest, and trousers of the same colour. The black boots were almost knee-high, sturdy and serviceable. All was crowned by a grey cap. All the others clothed themselves with haste, too.

"Company, outside – form!"

All rushed through the front door and formed a neat three-row line. Ensign Belranc seemed to be rebuking their sergeant Gladhir. The men were worried how this would affect their lot. Ereg's uncle, who had been a corporal, had told him in his earthy way:

"Remember, boy, in the army all shit flows downwards."

He hadn't told, however, that sometimes a man-at-arms would wade up to his chin in it. A lieutenant made a sergeant angry, he took it out to a corporal, and the corporal made his men suffer. There was no way around it. Now Gladhir shouted to them:

"You morons, worthless sluggards! How damn long it takes to rise in the morning? If you think you are still being pampered by your mommy, you are wrong! Today the time for breakfast will be only ten minutes! Teaches you the meaning of time! Right – face!"

The company turned right and on the command began marching towards the "banquet hall" as they called the low and long kitchen building. The distance was short, only a hundred yards across a paved parade field. In a long line they marched inside and received their portion of porridge, bread and butter from a bored-looking woman, who was part of the kitchen staff. Hastily they sat down and began to eat. Ereg had gobbled only a half of his porridge, however, when the sergeant's whistle sounded.

"Company – up! Back to the quarters, no formation! No sauntering!"

Ereg tucked his piece of bread to the pocket of his tunic and ran with the others across the field. Once in the barrack, he sat on his stool and drew a deep breath. He turned to Nárion.

"Whew, sarge sure is in a bad mood today! What have we in the schedule this morning?"

"I think it is sword-practice until the noon-meal. In the afternoon, cleaning and repairing the equipment."

All the others seemed crestfallen. After the measly breakfast sparring of many hours wasn't an exciting prospect. But Nárion was cheerful.

"Have fun, boys! I'm off to the storage!"

He had been assigned to the equipment storage for two mornings in every week. A friend of his cousin was the lieutenant in charge there, so it had been easy to secure the job. He had been also a sailor in a merchant ship, so he was quite familiar with packing and carrying heavy loads. The other men in the squad envied him for the storage assignment. Now Manceleb grimaced:

"Damn, some people have all the luck in the world! You little cheat, why didn't you arrange some easy jobs for us also?"

"Sorry, it was for one man only. Maybe you have better luck next time they need somebody."

Nárion walked out, whistling. They heard him booming to the corporal on duty and the bored answer.

"Man-at-arms Nárion going to the equipment storage!"

"You may go."

Ereg was dejected and cursed himself for a thousandth time for having volunteered. He had had a comfortable life as an only son of a carpenter. His father had planned to teach him the profession, and his tuition had been nearly complete, when he had met the recruiters, a year ago. They had offered him ale in an inn and painted a rosy picture of the life in the army. They had said:

"Think about it, an exciting life, full of action! You will have great honour, when you fulfill your duty to our King. Besides, no pretty girl can resist the lure of an uniform."

Being of somewhat easily persuaded disposition and having drunk eight tankards of ale, he had signed and collected his recruitment fee. His father hadn't been pleased, but there was nothing to do, as the contract couldn't be cancelled. Next week he had donned the uniform of the Osgiliath Regiment for the first time. This far there hadn't been a hint of excitement. And as for the girls, they had only the Wednesday evenings and Sundays off, so there was not much chance to chase women.

He came back to the present as orders to don their hauberks were shouted in the corridor. Sighing, he pulled the heavy mail on him, donned the surcoat and fastened his sword-belt.

--

Ereg was thoroughly exhausted, as sergeant Gladhir ordered a little break. They had sparred with dull swords for two hours, and all his joints ached. His opponent had been Gladhir himself, and the sergeant had hit hard, rebuking:

"What are you doing, can't you even hold a sword? My granny hits harder! What are you going to do with the Easterlings, pat them on their shoulders, huh? Swing it, like this!"

Ereg had only barely kept on his feet, when the irritated sergeant had landed heavy blows on his helm and body. But now that was finally over, at least for some time. He drank from his tin canteen and wiped sweat from his brow, trying to dry his face. It was quite useless, however, for the weather was horrible. It was only early Sulimë and a cold rain poured from the sky, drenching the soldiers. All were cold to the bone now they weren't moving anymore. But soon they had again action enough. An order to strip their armour and weapons was cried. They wondered what this meant, until ensign Belranc walked to the place, smiling and carrying a ball.

"It seems the last sleep has fallen from your eyes. As you are looking so fresh, what could be more fun than some sports? Platoon one, divide in two! The others, back to the barracks and prepare for a running exercise!"

The men of Ereg's platoon mumbled wearily "one" or "two" and formed the groups. They knew what to expect. Belranc held that games were a good way to build endurance and agility and often ordered them to play football or wrestle. Usually it was fun, but today everyone was too tired. They flung their coats off nonetheless and erected poles marking the goals. The game started, quite slowly. The ensign was not pleased and suggested some corporals and sergeants to join in. The sub-alterns did so with gusto, as most of them liked games like this. They played quite roughly, tackling and elbowing mercilessly. Ereg soon had even more bruises, as a gigantic corporal kicked the ball away from him and elbowed him to the ground.

The men-at-arms only became more energetic, as the ensign shouted:

"The team that wins may leave one hour earlier to the city this evening! The match lasts for an hour, with fifteen minute break in the middle!"

As it was Wednesday and everybody waited the joys of the city, all tried harder. Belranc acted as a referee, but didn't interfere with the tricks of the sub-alterns. After all, they did need some fun after the dull morning. The men warmed as they played and even the tired Ereg found that he was actually enjoying the game a bit. The match was quite even, the goals being 2-2 five minutes before the end. Then something unexpected happened. Ereg was attacking towards the goal, when he saw Manceleb suddenly rushing from behind, elbowing every opponent as he went. He slowed only some yards before the goal. Ereg had the ball and kicked it to the stout man. Manceleb neatly caught it with his feet and kicked it mightily. Although the goalkeeper tried to jump in the way, the ball rocketed between the poles and flew nearly a hundred yards. Then the whistle of Belranc sounded and the match had ended 3-2. All men in the team of Ereg rushed to Manceleb, patting his shoulder and chattering excitedly. The fat man beamed with pleasure, wiping sweat and rainwater from his face.

--

Finally the evening came and the fortunate soldiers could leave at five o'clock, the losing team grimacing at them and waiting for their turn. The afternoon had been quite irritating, because the ensigns and sergeants checked all pieces of equipment with painstaking care before giving them leave to go. But at least the armour and the swords shone now brightly, and the dull quarters seemed a bit more cheerful when clean. Ereg putted on his leave tunic, whistling merrily, when Nárion came in.

"There you are, you slacker! You should have been the afternoon here."

Nárion grinned.

"Oh, lieutenant Aiwenor needed me badly, as there was a load of new boots and uniforms to put on the shelves."

"Oh, don't lie, you played again cards and dice with him all day!"

"Well, we all have our duties. If a lieutenant orders me to play, what can I do?"

Ereg laughed.

"Such a hard task! Let me guess, as a reward he gave you also leave to go earlier to the city?"

"Yes, he arranged that with the captain. I knew it was a good move to let him win some coppers."

Ereg laughed again, shaking his head. Nárion was the most sly man he knew. After running away from his ship, Nárion had drifted to Minas Tirith and led a life of petty crime and odd jobs. When the soil had begun to burn under his feet, he had come to Osgiliath and joined the army. Now he hummed a tune, as he clothed himself. After checking the polish of their boots, the two marched to the gate of the garrison along the others. Soon enough they were almost in the centre of Osgiliath. Nárion waved his hand to Ereg and said:

"Well, have a nice evening!"

"What, don't you come with us? There's a cheap tavern on the riverside."

"Oh, no, I have another appointment. Maybe next time."

With that, the small man walked around the corner. Ereg shrugged and followed the others, who were lured by the seiren-call of cheap ale, greasy meat pies and pretty barmaids.

--

The week dragged slowly and at last Sunday came, sunny and relatively warm. The wake-up call was sounded two hours later than usual, but many were awake well before it nonetheless, waiting their day off with eager anticipation. After the breakfast almost all the soldiers of the regiment streamed out of the gates, Ereg and Nárion with them. Nárion declined, when Ereg asked him to come to Ereg's home.

"It is very kind of you, but I don't think I would suit in the company of people like your parents, no offense. And I have again something else to do."

Again he walked away with a brisk pace. Ereg was quite intrigued by his behaviour. Nárion hadn't come with the others to taverns almost ever, but always slipped to his own ways. There had been speculation that he had a woman somewhere. Nárion himself had supported these theories by a grin here and a sly comment there. Ereg pondered. He had only promised to his parents to visit them in the afternoon, so he had plenty of time in his disposal. And it would be interesting to see what Nárion was up to. He made his decision and started to follow his friend from some distance. Nárion walked quite a long way, to the southern riverside, where poorer folk lived.

Ereg saw Nárion going inside a little badly-kept house and staying there for some time. He waited for some time, and wondered if he should go away. The situation was quite embarrassing and he felt that what he did wasn't proper. Just when he was turning to go, the door of the house opened and Nárion came out. Ereg was quite surprised when he saw that the other man was accompanied by a little girl, perhaps four years old. The two walked hand in hand, chattering merrily and the girl sometimes laughing with a bright voice. Ereg was embarrassed but followed them nonetheless, as the whole thing was very strange. He thought he began to understand, though.

Nárion and the child walked to a public garden and sat on a stone bench, the girl talking endlessly and the man listening with a tender smile on his face. Now Ereg decided to make his presence known. He surprised the two by striding in front of them and exclaiming:

"Why, Nárion, you never told you had a daughter!"

The little girl was startled and clutched the sleeve of Nárions tunic, peering at the strange man curiously. Nárion went all red and stammered:

"She... she is not my daughter, but my niece. My sister Riliel is her mother." Then he turned to the child:

"Say hello to my friend Ereg. He is in the same company as I."

The girl let go of Nárion's sleeve and said shyly, curtseying:

"Good day, master Ereg."

Ereg smiled gently and greeted her in military fashion, by placing his right fist over his heart.

"Hello, little one! What is your name?"

The girl didn't answer, but looked at her feet shyly. Nárion answered for her:

"Her name is Dilthwen and she will be five two months hence. She is my sister's only child. Riliel's husband died last year and she has to work in taverns and wash laundry to support the child and herself. An old woman looks after Dilthwen usually, but I do that whenever I can."

Now Dilthwen had gained some courage and broke in:

"Master Ereg, are you an officer? My uncle always says they appear when you least expect it."

Ereg grinned a little and answered:

"No, I am not, little maiden. Like your uncle, I am only a man-at-arms. Be glad that you don't ever need to be a soldier."

"Oh, I'd love to be a soldier, if I was a boy! You have such handsome clothes!"

Now both Nárion and Ereg laughed, the former stroking Dilthwen's hair. Nárion said:

"You have something to learn of this world, it seems. Wait until you are a big girl, then you won't anymore want to be a man-at-arms." Dilthwen was incensed:

"But I AM a big girl, mother said so just yesterday!"

"Oh, of course. Don't be angry, I was just joking. What if we went home? I can tell you a few stories and then it is time for you to go sleeping."

Dilthwen forgot her anger instantly and exclaimed:

"Oh, yes! I want to hear again about the bear and the princess, and the story about the Swan of the North, and about the old blacksmith with enchanted hammer. When we walk, tell me about the man who found a golden treasure."

Nárion rose and took Dilthwen's hand.

"I'll do that. Now, be a good girl and say farewell to Ereg. Ereg, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell about this. You see, the laugh would never end."

The girl curtseyed again and said:

"Goodbye, master Ereg!"

Then the two walked away, Nárion beginning to tell:

"Once upon a time, there was a farmer. Now, he was very poor..."

Ereg watched them walk around the corner, smiling. Then he turned and began his long walk to his parents' house.

--

Read and review, please.


	2. Chapter 2:The Storm Is Rising

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 2: The Storm Is Rising

The spring went by, mostly in dull monotone. Training, inspections and days off followed each other in a steady chain. Ereg was most of the time bored, but did his best as it was best not to draw the attention of officers. On Wednesday evenings and Sundays he sometimes went with Nárion, and had good time chatting with his friend and telling stories to Dilthwen. He met Nárion's sister the next week after he had first followed Nárion, and nearly every week after that. Riliel was quite a pretty woman, small and black-haired as her brother. She had blue eyes, which seldom seemed to rest on one thing more than a few seconds. Ereg no longer wondered from where Dilthwen had got her quick temper and lively manners. Riliel seemed to be careworn, but still quite hopeful about the future. Only when she remembered her late husband did her eyes fill with tears. She was very pleased that Ereg wanted to look after Dilthwen with Nárion.

"She's such a little squirrel, always running about. My brother sometimes has difficulty to keep her in eyesight. It's very good of you. You must be a very good friend to Nárion."

When Lótessë drew near its end, Ereg told his parents about Nárion and his relatives. His parents were good-hearted and invited them one Sunday to a visit. Nárion and Riliel didn't want to come at first, but Ereg persuaded them at last. When they walked towards Ereg's home in the northwestern part of the city, Riliel told him:

"Mind you, I only accepted because you asked so nicely. I do not ask for alms and will not accept them, however rich your parents are."

Ereg nodded, a bit worried about his father's behaviour. His mother instinctively knew how to treat people well, but his father could sometimes be annoyingly patronizing. His fears were unfounded, however. As they came to the large door, they saw Ereg's parents standing in the doorway. His father stepped closer and greeted them with a bow, his hands crossed on his chest, as was the custom of Gondor. He said in a polite manner:

"Well met, honoured guests! Corchion in your service. This is my wife Ylwen. Welcome to my house."

He shook hands with Nárion and Riliel as Ereg introduced them. Corchion said to Nárion, as they stepped inside:

"It is a pleasure finally to meet one of my son's comrades. I am happy that he has such good friends as he has told."

They sat to the table in the dining hall and a good dinner was served. Riliel seemed embarrassed, when Dilthwen played with her food and chattered constantly, but Ylwen only smiled gently at the child, and the men were so deep in their conversation that they didn't even notice. Ereg was very pleased when he saw that his father and Nárion got along admirably with each other. His mother and Riliel seemed also like each other and Ylwen was instantly charmed by the little girl.

When the dinner drew to a close and the wine was served, Ereg started to worry again. Riliel had said she wouldn't accept alms, but his parents had hinted that they would give a little present to her. What could it be? Hopefully not money. Ereg knew, however, that at least his mother was more tactful than that. When the siblings and Dilthwen finally were leaving, Ylwen suddenly exclaimed:

"Oh, I nearly forgot! Wait a minute, Riliel, we have something for you." Then she walked out of the room. Riliel opened her mouth to protest, but Nárion signed her to be silent. After a few moments Ylwen returned, carrying a bundle. She opened it and showed a finely-made doll, which she gave to Dilthwen.

"Ereg said that your daughter likes dolls very much, so I took the liberty of buying one. It should last a few years. I hope you will accept this little gift."

Riliel looked first at Dilthwen, who was instantly in love with her new toy. Then she raised her eyes to Ylwen, smiling.

"It is wonderful. She has many dolls, but they all are very worn. It was very thoughtful of you, thank you. Dilthwen, thank kind Ylwen!"

Dilthwen sprang on her feet, beaming.

"Thank you, madam! I will name her Star-shine."

Then the siblings went out, Ereg staying behind because his father wanted to speak to him. Corchion laid his hand on Ereg's shoulder.

"They are charming people, thank you for introducing them. But I must ask: Do you have any designs towards that Riliel? She's very lovely and seemed to like you."

Ereg was very confused, he hadn't even thought about the whole thing from that viewpoint. He stammered:

"Uh... I haven't thought it like that. She's the sister of my friend, that's all. But what if I had any... designs?"

His father sighed.

"Well, you are a grown man now. I won't interfere with your choice, if you choose wisely. Riliel isn't that kind of bride I intended for you, but she has a good heart, I deem. Do what you will."

Then he paused, but continued soon.

"I have another thing to say to you. It is said that the Easterlings are again on the move and that their attack is to be expected any day."

"Father, it is said so for many a month. They will attack eventually, but until then nothing can be helped by worrying."

"I know, but this time they are said to be stronger in numbers than ever before. I don't tell you to be a coward, but remember – you are our only child. Fight with honour, remembering your oaths, but don't waste your life needlessly. Go now with my blessing."

Ereg embraced his parents and went out. He was surprised when he saw that Nárion, Riliel and Dilthwen waited for him outside.

"I thought you went home already!"

Nárion answered:

"Well, we thought you perhaps would want walk with us home and then go the garrison with me. And Dilthwen wants you tell her the tale of the Snowman and Dwarves." Dilthwen exclaimed:

"Yes, you tell it so well! Please!"

Ereg laughed and complied. The siblings conversed in a low voice, as Ereg recounted the adventures of the Snowman in the dark halls of Dwarven King to the avidly listening girl.

After an hour they came to Riliel's house. Nárion and Dilthwen went inside, but Riliel remained with Ereg. She offered her hand to him.

"Thank you for this evening! Your parents were very nice and Dilthwen had great time. So did I. I will eagerly wait our next meeting."

Then, as if she had said too much, she turned her eyes downwards. Ereg felt his blood flowing to his cheeks. He took her hand and answered:

"I hope it will be soon. Are you free next Sunday?"

Riliel answered in affirmative, looking Ereg in the eyes. Her gaze was steady for once, and Ereg felt better than ever in his life. The woman seemed so beautiful in the light of rising moon. He reminded himself that she was a widow, had a child and was nearly five years older than he. But at that moment it didn't matter at all. His heart beat furiously and he feared she would notice it. He managed to stammer:

"Uh, well, until next Sunday then. Good night!"

Then he abruptly walked away, leaving Riliel standing quite confused. He stopped behind the next corner and breathed deeply. His behaviour seemed childish to him and he cursed himself for being like a love-stricken boy. After all, he had known Riliel only for nearly two months. Besides, she was from a much lower class than he. He had practically no experience with women, also. Those thoughts, however, seemed only cowardly excuses. He gazed to the moon and smiled despite himself. After a few minutes Nárion turned around the corner and stopped next to him. He looked a little bewildered.

"Did you quarrel with my sister? She was very silent and thoughtful, and you left in such a hurry. Strange, I thought you were friends."

Ereg regained his composure and answered:

"Oh, we had only a little chat and I fear she misunderstood something I said. It was nothing serious, I'll explain that to her when we meet again."

"If you say so," Nárion shrugged as they started to walk towards the garrison.

When they came to their quarters, they saw that the rest of the squad were playing cards. Bruidir, a muscular, middle sized corporal from eastern Osgiliath, shouted to Ereg:

"Hey, come to play! That fatty Manceleb wins all the time, maybe you can beat him."

Ereg declined, but Nárion was in a second seated at the table. As Ereg took his uniform off, he saw Manceleb once again throwing his cards on the table.

"Nine again! Guys, pay up!"

The others groaned and pushed some coppers towards him. Ereg laid down on his back, staring at the ceiling. The players shouted "eights" and "nines" and the clink of copper coins was constant. But Ereg saw only a black hair and blue eyes and heard only Riliel's voice:

"I will eagerly wait our next meeting."

Slowly he wandered to the magical land of dreams.

--

The next day and a few more Ereg walked like in a dream. He had a small smile on his face even during rigorous exercises, and endured stoically the rebukes of ensign Belranc and sergeant Gladhir.

On Wednesday morning Belranc was raging to him again. He had fumbled pathetically in a sword-handling practice and almost notched the blade. Also in spear exercise his thrusts were feeble and his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"Are you drunk or stupid, what? Had too much fun with a juicy wench, so you can't even lift a weapon, huh? When the Wild men come, you will be as useful as a pile of crap! They'll kill you like a kitten and that'll serve you right, you moron! I will myself laugh at your funeral! If you mess like that in the afternoon too, I'll cancel your Sunday leave! That teaches you to dream of wild nights, you lecher!"

Ereg was shocked. The threat of losing the Sunday leave was only too real. Every week some hapless fellows had to remain in garrison, cleaning barracks and doing guard duty. The thought chilled Ereg and sobered his rosy thoughts. After the noon-meal, when they had some drill and a short spear-throwing exercise he tried his best, earning a grudging approval of the ensign.

"We'll make you a soldier one of these days. Your leave is secured, for now."

During the rest of the week he was careful not to annoy Belranc or Gladhir. He tried to do everything perfectly, and the sergeant sneered:

"Seems you have found some motivation! Lust make wonders, I see!"

Nárion heard this and later asked Ereg:

"What did he mean? Is there anything true in that? You seemed to look very tenderly to my sister."

Ereg was embarrassed. He answered:

"He draws only his own dirty conclusions. Only one thing is true: I will meet Riliel next Sunday. I like her very much. But don't be worried, I won't stain her honour."

"You have better not, or you'll answer to me for that. I know that every brother says this, but I'll beat you to a pulp if you harm her. She is my only relative, with Dilthwen. I trust you, don't betray me now!"

Ereg offered his hand to Nárion.

"I won't, I swear."

--

Finally Sunday came and Ereg was able to leave the garrison, well groomed and his boots shining. He walked with a painful limp, though. In Saturday afternoon they had played the customary football, and a corporal had kicked his knee hard. It was swollen and didn't bend very much, so the healer had recommended complete rest for a few days. Ereg nonetheless hobbled through the gate, for there was nothing that could have hindered him now. He stopped only to buy a few flowers from a woman who stood in a corner, offering flowers and cheap jewelry.

The journey took much longer than in the first time, but finally he was before the familiar door and knocked. Nárion had left even earlier than he for the city, promising to look after Dilthwen so that he and Riliel could be alone. He had, however, severely warned Ereg before he left. It was quite unnecessary, though, as Ereg was no lady hunter. Now he stood on the paved street, almost crushing the violets in his nervous hand. The door opened and he saw Riliel, smiling shyly and clad in her best clothes. The gown was plain but very pretty to the eyes of Ereg. In his grey uniform he felt like an old jackdaw beside a lively nightinggale. He greeted a bit clumsily:

"Good day, I mean hello, Riliel! I brought you some flowers."

With that he offered the somewhat crushed violets to Riliel. She took them and laughed merrily, but a little nervously.

"They are beautiful! Well, what if we took a little walk? The day is so sunny and wonderful!"

Ereg forgot his aching knee for a moment and complied enthusiastically. After a few furlongs, however, his limp worsened again and he grimaced in pain. Riliel said:

"Oh, forgive me, I did not realize you are hurt! Shall we turn back?"

"No, it's aching only a little. Let's walk on and find a place where we can sit down. It will be all right then."

They found the same garden where Ereg had met Nárion and Dilthwen and sat on a bench. They were silent for some time, looking over Anduin where the eastern Osgiliath bathed in sunlight. Riliel seemed to be calm, but Ereg's thoughts raced. He wondered what he should do or say. Gathering his courage, he took without a word Riliel's hand in his own. She pressed it gently, smiling. Finally Ereg found his words and started a foolish conversation about weather. Soon the talk drifted elsewhere, though, and they spent a few pleasant hours talking just about everything. When noon came, they rose and seeked a little tavern, where they ate, still conversing merrily. Ereg couldn't tear his eyes from Riliel's fair face.

The day turned to evening all too quickly, and it was time to part. Before the door of her house, Riliel stopped and said to Ereg:

"This has been a wonderful day. After my husband died, I thought I would never feel like this again. You are so gentle, but also young and inexperienced. Can I trust your feelings to last, if you have any?"

"If I have any! This is the first time I am truly in love, but still I am sure you will be the only woman I will ever desire."

Riliel smiled.

"At least you can sound convincing. But think about it, would you be a father to Dilthwen? Would your parents approve, if, I emphasise IF, we decided to marry?" Ereg answered vehemently, pressing her hand against his heart:

"Oh, don't worry, my love! My father already said me he will accept my decision when I take a wife. And my mother, she liked you and even adored Dilthwen. And as for Dilthwen, I will love her like my own child, because she is your daughter."

Riliel lowered her eyes and pondered for a while. Then she looked Ereg in the eyes.

"So be it then, for I love you. But I hope you won't regret your choice in the coming years."

Before Ereg could answer, she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips and hurried inside, leaving him standing there, his heart almost bursting from emotion.

--

He informed his parents next Wednesday, and they were delighted. Only his father had one reservation.

"Don't rush to marriage, my son. I know that your heart is true when you decide something, but you never know what can happen. Besides, the war is coming. Do you want to leave a grieving widow, maybe expecting a child, if you fall in battle?"

Ereg pondered this. He wanted to marry Riliel as soon as possible, although it was customary to be engaged for about a year before that. He knew, though, that his father was right. He answered:

"We will wait until I come back. Riliel will approve, I hope."

--

Corchion was indeed right. In the last day of Nárië came a message that the Easterlings were moving south of the Sea of Rhûn in great numbers. They were heading for west and moving as fast as they could. The King Ondoher himself had come to Osgiliath with the regiments of Anórien and other lands directly ruled by him. He inspected the Regiment of Osgiliath and was seemingly pleased. Ereg was impressed by the height and noble features of the King. He looked like he was invincible, such was his confidence and dignity. He spoke to the regiment briefly.

"My soldiers! In this hour of need, I expect that you do everything in power to stop the cruel enemy. Remember your mothers, your sisters and your wives! They must not be in the mercy of Easterlings! Remember the oaths you have taken! Flinch not, for the West shall not fall! The tide from the wide East has been stopped many times before. Now, soldiers, take up your arms and march into victory!"

Great banners were unfurled, their embroidery glittering in the rays of sun. Ereg felt his heart to swell with pride, as he drew his sword with others. A great cry rang all over the parade field:

"Long live King Ondoher!"

In the bright light of noon, two thousand swords and helms shone like a great fire.

--

The next day they had orders for march. As they were going to parade through Osgiliath, they were ordered to don their hauberks and full battle equipment. Shortly before noon the first companies marched through the garrison gate. The air was heavy, and grey clouds were gathering in the north. A thunderstorm was coming. Ereg sweated badly in his armour, but kept his head high as he marched through the streets. Nárion was next to him in the four-row line. There was much people watching them, cheering and throwing flowers on them. It seemed like the whole population if Osgiliath had crowded in the streets and balconies along their route. Amidst the noise Ereg's ears caught a high, familiar voice.

"Ereg! Nárion!"

The two turned their heads and saw Riliel standing in a corner, waving to them. She had tears in her eyes as she cried again:

"Take care of yourselves! I will wait for you, Ereg!"

Ereg would have answered, but suddenly a song was started ahead him and he joined in it:

Like fathers once in battle falling

have repelling struck the East,

so we, the taken oaths recalling,

make our ranks hold fast.

No greater joy we know

than to protect our land,

to defend its woods and fields,

for its safety and honour stand.

No fate can weaken our hand,

the tide of war must be blocked.

Our goal the safety of land,

its gates must be locked.

And if our sword breaks,

if once we fall in the field,

only glad that us makes

if only serve our country we did.

They marched on, past Riliel. Ereg and Nárion waved to her for the last time as they passed and were then lost among the grey tunics, steel helms and hauberks. She stood there, weeping, until the last soldier had passed. She watched the young, grim faces, some of which seemed very small and frightened under the helms. But she could only think of the features of her betrothed and her brother. In despair she saw the last row of sombre uniforms turn at a corner, only dust hanging in the air behind them. The first rumble of thunder was heard.

--

The rain started just after the regiment had crossed the bridge over Anduin. They marched through the city, the fierce water whipping their faces. Lightnings started to crackle and the streets were soon empty. After the city was behind them, they paused to take their armour off and put it in their backpacks. They were in a crossing of two roads, and saw other troops on the move along the northward route. Ereg recognised the green mantles of the Ithilien Regiment and heard the curses of the drivers of the pack carts. Slowly, like a great green centipede, the regiment passed them, the men looking dejected in the heavy rain. Along the march column officers rode, shouting orders and encouragements. Ereg heard their captain, Túrgoth, speaking to lieutenant Aiwenor sourly.

"I wonder why the colonel didn't purchase horses for us also. Even those green bastards have them!"

"Captain, I think the funds of the regiment are a bit low. We just had orders that only hopelessly broken equipment will be discarded. Even boots with no soles at all must be repaired, regardless of time required."

"Splendid! Fortunately the weapons are in good condition. How much spare equipment do you have with us?"

"Not much, captain. The boots and spare nails for them will last only for a week's march."

"Well, then some of the men have to go barefoot, when we return."

Then the captain commanded the company to move, because the road was now clear. The rain was somewhat lessening, but it didn't make the mood of the men any better. The march before them would be long.

--

They came out of Ithilien on the tenth day of Cermië. For two days they marched along the Ered Lithui, now slower because the men were tired and the enemy was expected to appear any day. On the twelfth day they were near the Gates of Mordor. The men looked in awe at the mighty battlements, as they ate their breakfast. But the gate was not a threat, and their eyes constantly wandered to the east. Shortly after noon, when they prepared to march again, a sentry shouted:

"Look to the East! A great cloud is rising from there!"

Ereg turned his head with the others and saw a yellow and brown cloud in the horizon. Higher and higher it rose, until it covered the whole eastern sky. He wondered what it was, when the captain cried:

"The enemy is coming! To arms, prepare for battle!"

As his voice rang, wind threw the first clouds of dust against their faces.


	3. Chapter 3: The Defeat and the Victory

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 3: The Defeat and the Victory

The dust grew denser and it was hard to see anything. Ereg hastily pulled the hauberk over his head and donned his belt. Every man was in feverish hurry, as it was evident that the enemy would strike soon. The messengers ran to the captain, waiting orders. Somehow the company was formed, but in a haphazard fashion, platoons not tightly together and squads mixed. Ereg found to his delight that his squad comrades were all around him, complete with sergeant Gladhir. They heard captain Túrgoth yelling orders:

"Corporal, find the battalion to the left! Officers, to your platoons! Hold fast, men!"

Then he cursed and said to lieutenant Aiwedil:

"This is a complete mess! The Easterlings attack in any minute now. There are no contacts to the other companies, no orders from the colonel, I don't even know where the King is with his guard! This damnable dust! We should have stayed in Ithilien and given the Easterlings a good beating in the narrow roads."

The adjutant answered calmly:

"Captain, it is of no use to speculate in this moment. Shall I send a messenger to rear with orders to ask reinforcements from the colonel?"

"Yes, lieutenant!"

Now the first riding enemies came out of the dust. They were lightly armed with throwing spears and slings. Shouting savagely the Easterlings rode closer and pelted the Gondorians with a hail of missiles. Sergeant Gladhir shouted:

"Raise your shields! Protect your head or you are dead meat!"

At this point ensign Belranc rushed to the place.

"Are you cowards, hiding behind the shields? Get them down, we'll attack!"

Gladhir was horrified.

"You can't be serious, ensign, we have no orders from the captain! Every man would be killed!"

"No objections! Now men, shields down and follow..."

As he shouted the order he drew his sword and ran towards the enemy. His sentence was cut short, however, by a stone. It hit him in the forehead, felling him instantly. Seeing him fall, an Easterling rider let out a cry of triumph. Two men ran from the ranks of Gondorians and managed somehow to stay unharmed when they dragged the unconscious and bleeding ensign to the rear, amidst flying spears and stones. Gladhir cried:

"The platoon is in my command! Everyone stays in his place!"

Ereg paled when he saw Belranc fall. He had been very nervous even before the battle began, but seeing a man, however hated, to become wounded strained his nerves still further. He grasped his spear, knuckles white, as he held the shield above his head. The stones fell against it, making him to sway. An urge to run was almost irresistible. He bit his teeth firmly together and repeated in his mind, over and over:

"Remember the oaths... Remember Riliel... You are not a coward, you are not a coward... just follow the orders..."

Then the hail of stones ceased and they lowered their shields. The Easterling light cavalry had retreated, as the main body of their riders was now at striking distance. The wind favoured the enemy, as the dust was blown directly in the faces of Gondorians. Ereg watched the advancing riders in terror. They seemed to be many times as strong as his company. He heard an order:

"Prepare your spears!"

He raised mechanically the spear in the throwing position. He felt very small and threatened, as the yelling enemies spurred their steeds towards the Gondorians. His limbs worked only because the sergeant commanded, otherwise he would have crumbled to the ground.

"Wait – throw!"

Ereg hurled his weapon towards the mass of horses and men before him. Fortunately a detachment of archers had finally arrived and let a rain of arrows fly from behind the infantry. Many Easterlings fell, but more came, this time accompanied by groups of war-chariots. Ereg drew his sword, though he knew how futile an attempt to fight would be. He remembered his father's words when they had parted.

"Do you want to leave a grieving widow, maybe expecting a child, if you fall in battle?"

Now it seemed foolish that he had complied. At least he could have fulfilled his love. What would his parents do when their only child would be dead? What would Riliel do, when both her brother and Ereg would have been trampled to death? The thought was excruciating. His mind filled with hate, when he looked at the attacking horde. He saw the same fire in the eyes of his comrades. Sergeant Gladhir shouted:

"If we must die, then let us die with honour! To attack, for Gondor!"

They all yelled "For Gondor!" and rushed forwards, jaws clenched and swords ready. The captain saw the assault and tried to shout them to stop, but his voice couldn't anymore be heard over the tumult of battle. As there was nothing more to do, he ordered the assault banner be unfurled and a trumpet signal be winded. The whole company charged forwards.

The horsemen of the enemy were taken by surprise of this onslaught. They hadn't expected a counter-attack and were thrown in confusion for a while. The platoon of Ereg was the foremost among the riders, slashing the bellies of the horses open and hacking at the legs of the horsemen. The attackers did suffer casualties, however. Ereg saw Gladhir trying to stab a rider, but the Easterling evaded the blow and swung his own sword. The sergeant's neck was hit, his head falling to the dust, blood spurting from the wound. Gladhir fell and were lost among the thundering hooves. Infuriated, Ereg picked a spear from the ground and threw it in the chest of the rider. The man toppled from the saddle.

After a while Ereg noticed that the enemy was starting to fight more orderly. He did not see the rest of his squad, only Nárion and Manceleb stood beside him. They looked revolting, gore staining their faces and uniforms. But a defiant expression was on their faces, and Ereg knew he couldn't have better company. Suddenly two dismounted Easterlings appeared from the flying dust, brandishing their swords. Ereg and Manceleb rushed towards them. Ereg slashed the stomach of his opponent open, before the man could react. The Easterling tried to hold his entrails with his hands, but a stab in his chest felled him. Manceleb had a little more difficulty, but soon the other Easterling was dead also.

At first it seemed that the enemy began to waver, but soon they recovered and tried to form again. The remnants of the company realized that they were surrounded and that the enemy was tightening the circle. All seemed to be lost, and a hopeless fury raged within Ereg's mind. So, then all bravery was in vain. He thought again Riliel and his parents. He could almost see them in the clutches of the Easterlings. Rough hands grabbed Riliel, and... The thought was unbearable. He raised his word and prepared to sell his life dearly.

But then came the rescue. Just as the enemy riders began to kill the remaining men-at-arms, a Gondorian cavalry detachment charged their flank. The enemy wheeled away in a confused mass and Ereg had a chance to escape with his friends. Nárion exclaimed:

"Quick! Let's run, now is the only moment!"

Ereg, Nárion and Manceleb charged through a hole in the enemy front, hacking five Easterlings down as they went. They were soon almost clear of the battle, going southwards, as it was the only direction free of enemies. But when they were almost out of bowshot, an arrow flew through the air and struck Nárion in the left knee. He fell with a cry, and the others kneeled by him. Writhing in pain, Nárion moaned:

"Run, just leave me! You can't save yourselves if you are carrying me. Ereg, tell my sister..."

"You can tell it yourself, we don't leave you!"

With that, the two soldiers lifted Nárion up and began to drag him. They were not hindered, and soon they found a deep hollow surrounded by large stones. There they crawled and bandaged Nárion's wound. They drew a few deep breaths and began to discuss their options. Manceleb said:

"We must try and get to the rearguard. Surely the enemy can't have destroyed it. There Nárion can be properly tended, too."

"Yes, you are right. I'll try to see if we can do it," Ereg said, climbing to the brink of the hollow. He peered northwards. The dust had now receded, strong wind blowing it towards west. He saw a low hill maybe three furlongs away, on which a furious battle seemed to be raging. He thought he recognized the great banner of the King, defiantly waving in the wind. But soon the horde of Easterlings seemed to prevail, the banner swayed for a moment, then fell and the brown and black tide of the enemy flowed over the hill. Ereg was horrified and said to his comrades:

"The King has fallen! This is the end of Gondor! Now we can't possibly join the rearguard."

Manceleb paled, but answered nonetheless:

"Do not say so! There's still an army in the south. We must now evade the enemy and find the army. General Eärnil needs to know about this. Let us start at nightfall!"

Ereg was surprised and encouraged by the relentless attitude of the usually lax Manceleb. He and Nárion accepted the plan and they laid down, waiting the sunset. All three were so exhausted that they dropped to a heavy sleep, regardless of the horrors of the day.

--

At nightfall they started on their journey, supporting Nárion, who had to hobble with one leg. They kept close to the Ephel Dúath, seeing nobody in that night. For the next day they sleeped again, not knowing that a rearguard led by Minohtar, the nephew of Ondoher, was being destroyed only miles away. For three days the three comrades travelled southwards, eating almost nothing, as they had only a little food and no hunting gear.

Finally, at dawn, they heard low voices speaking westron in a nearby thicket. They let out a cry, and from the bushes rose two rangers. They were horrified by the haggard appearance of the comrades, even though they already knew about the defeat on Dagorlad. Some horsemen had managed to escape and to bring the news to Eärnil. The rangers had been scouting, and led the three fugitives to the main body of the army. They were took to general Eärnil. Although tired and hungry, they were impressed by the general. He showed true Dúnadan ancestry by his grey eyes and dark hair, and was clearly fit to be a relative to the King. Eärnil questioned them about the last stand of Ondoher and was clearly moved when Ereg told about the falling banner. He said:

"Yes, he was a mighty warrior and a good king. Remember him with respect, men, for he fell with honour."

Ereg bowed.

"Indeed, general! The enemy outnumbered him many times, but his banner rose high until the very end."

Then Eärnil gave them leave to go, ordering a cart to be prepared for their transport. They laid down on soft straw, Nárion in the middle. They were heartened, when the coachman told them about the great victory over Haradrim. With little losses the enemy had been driven back to south, completely defeated. They smiled wearily and were soon asleep.

--

In this manner they went again northwards. Nárion's wound received treatment at last, they had enough to eat and their tattered clothes were repaired. The only worries were that the healer said that Nárion would remain somewhat lame and that if even Eärnil's army was enough to defeat the Easterling hordes.

On the second day, at sunset, a lieutenant approached them, followed by two soldiers carrying their mail and weapons. The lieutenant addressed Ereg and Manceleb:

"The enemy is only two miles away, their camp in disorder because they are drinking and celebrating. Thus a surprise attack is planned. I thought that maybe you would like to join it, to avenge your comrades. That is, if you have rested enough."

The two men didn't need to be asked twice. Eagerly they armed themselves, thirst for revenge burning in their veins. Nárion, who laid in the cart, said to them:

"Boys, make them pay for my knee!"

"Don't worry, the weregild will be paid soon enough, in blood."

Soon they were in a line of soldiers, the army marching quietly through a forest. The men had been ordered to keep quiet, and the only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps of heavy boots. After an hour they came on a hilltop and saw the huge camp of the enemy below them. The army began to spread around the camp in the cover of trees. Laughter and merry songs from around the campfires echoed from the hillsides. The lieutenant beside Ereg muttered to his ear:

"See how they rejoice at the thought of loot and rape! Soon enough we'll stifle their mirth!"

After a while trumpets were blown and the Gondorians attacked from two sides, taking the Easterlings by surprise. Their commander had posted only a few sentries, thinking that Gondor was now at their mercy. The appearance of a new army panicked the Easterlings, some of whom started to run even before the bloodshed had begun. They were the lucky ones, though. The battle was a brief affair, Men of Gondor slaughtering their defenseless enemies without mercy. Ereg and Manceleb were foremost, cleaving heads with their swords as they strode through the mass of the confused Easterlings. As they fought with red rage, they shouted: "For the Company!" Finally most of the enemies were killed and they could rest. Ereg sat heavily down beside Manceleb, his breath panting. Without the word they breathed deeply, pleased by their revenge.

--

In the tenth day of Urimë a corporal with yellow hair and another one with raven-black hair strode down the Oak Street in Osgiliath. The corporal's green eyes spotted a familiar door, and having mounted the steps, he knocked loud. A sturdy, middle-aged man opened, seemingly surprised. The corporal opened his arms.

"Father!" The older man recovered from his surprise, recognition flashing in his eyes, as they were filled with tears.

"Ereg, you are alive!"

Ereg, for he was the corporal, embraced his father, weeping. Corchion was for a long while overcome by his emotion, but then broke the embrace and held his son by shoulders.

"How happy I am! The tidings from the battle told that almost all were killed. I didn't expect to see you in this life."

Ereg laughed, wiping his tears.

"Neither did I have the hope of seeing you again. But look, Nárion survived also!" He drew his friend by sleeve inside. Corchion heartily shook his hand.

"'Tis a wonderful thing! Come, your sister has lived here for some time. You surely want to see her."

But when they turned, Riliel and Ylwen rushed to their arms. They had heard the noise to upstairs and came to see what was it. Ylwen embraced his son, speechless, and Riliel clung to his brother. Little Dilthwen watched them, not knowing if she should be startled or rejoicing. After Ylwen released Ereg, Riliel threw her arms around him.

"Oh, my love!" was the only thing she could utter through her sobs. Ereg clung to her tightly, his heart banging. He couldn't say anything, he was too happy. For a while they embraced silently, not heeding anything else. Meanwhile, Nárion, having received a hug from Ylwen, lifted Dilthwen up and exclaimed:

"So, little princess, did you think I was gone?" Dilthwen answered, laughing:

"They said you were dead, but I didn't believe. See, I was right!"

"Yes, you know, your uncle may sometimes go far, but comes always back."

Now they were somewhat calmed down and Corchion cried:

"Well, it is time to celebrate!" Then he rang a bell and announced to their two servants, who appeared:

"Serve wine in the dinner hall, and prepare some food. No penny-pinching, only the best this time."

With that, he walked towards the hall, followed by the others. Ereg and Riliel came last, and stopped before the door when the others had entered. Without a word, he kissed her for a long time.

--

Ereg and Riliel were married a month later. As her parents weren't alive, Nárion acted in the exchange of the vows as a substitute for their father. The guests were few and all the dresses and decorations simple, but it didn't matter. At the end of the following feast, Corchion toasted to the couple:

"After the rigours of war, my son, you enter the battle of life. And you Riliel, remind Ereg every day what bliss he has gained in you! I drink to your health!"

The cups were drained, and all rose. As the couple headed for their chambers, Nárion drew Ereg aside. He smiled:

"Well, now I must do my duty and make the customary speech of the bride's brother. So, if you harm her..."

"You beat me in a pulp. You said that already."

"Oh, did I?"

The men laughed, but then Riliel interrupted:

"Nárion, there were enough speeches during the feast. If you don't mind, I would like to be with my husband alone now." Despite the stern words, she couldn't help smiling.

"As you wish, I'll go to drain some cups to your health."

With that, Nárion sauntered away. Riliel and Ereg went to their chambers and when there, sighed contentedly. Riliel said:

"Well, alone at last."

Ereg walked to her and helped to open the buttons of her gown.

"Yes, at last."


	4. Chapter 4: Epilogue

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Epilogue

Ereg stopped at the door, when he heard Riliel's voice.

"Ereg, don't you say me even goodbye?"

He turned and looked at his wife. There were little wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and she had gained a little weight, but still she was the most beautiful woman to Ereg's eyes. He himself wasn't in blooming youth anymore. The mirror showed him a middle-aged man with a few gray hairs and somewhat wrinkled face. Only the eyes reminded him of the young man he had once been. Though older, Riliel had kept her youth better. But Ereg wasn't displeased, his face only showed the traces of life, full of work and pleasure. He drew Riliel closer, kissing her.

"I thought you were still sleeping, dear. But, good morning and goodbye for the day!"

He thought for a moment, and added:

"By the way, it will be late when I come home. I agreed to go to tavern with two friends."

Seeing Riliel's brow furrowing, he hastily said:

"The other one is Nárion, the other Manceleb. It is twenty years now since we marched to war. You remember, we gather to remember it every year."

Riliel wasn't irritated anymore, but said:

"Mind you that you don't drink too much then. Last year you were swaying when you came back."

"Oh, don't start! We only had a few toasts for both the kings, the dead and the recent," was the good-natured answer. Riliel smiled.

"And after that a few for yourselves?"

"Naturally. Sorry, but I must hurry now. Have a pleasant day!"

Ereg kissed Riliel once more and went out of the door. When he walked towards the garrison, he thought about the gone years. After the marriage, they had had two sons in four years. Since Ereg didn't want them to become soldiers, his father had agreed to teach his profession to them. They were sharp lads and Corchion praised them constantly. He was blind, however, to their faults. Similar cheekiness and pranks would have earned Ereg a severe punishment when he was a boy. Grandfathers. His mother also pampered them and Dilthwen.

Ereg smiled, when he thought about the children. Dilthwen had been at first quite confused and angry, when she had got a stepfather. In a year or two, however, she had learned to love Ereg. The next problem had come when the older son, Doronir, had been born. Dilthwen was quite jealous at first, but eventually that problem had also been solved. Now his stepdaughter had been married to a young saddlemaker for two years and was happy. Doronir also courted a young girl, but they had to wait for a few years. The younger son, Thaundil, was only sixteen, but growing fast. He was like a picture of his grandfather and thus Corchion's favourite. Ereg could be very pleased indeed, for his relations with Riliel had been very good, too. There had been only a few big quarrels, along many lesser ones, but always they had managed to solve them.

Suddenly he realized that he had walked past the garrison gate. He sighed and turned. He had been promoted in quick succession after the war, but had been a captain for ten years now. He hadn't any desire to rise higher, there was enough to do with one company. He saluted the guard soldier and walked in. The garrison was just like twenty years ago, the same dusty parade field, the same grey barracks. Some things never changed.

--

In the afternoon, Ereg went to the "River-maiden and Trout" which was his usual place to have an ale or two. He had frequented the place since he was a man-at-arms, and now it seemed to him that young soldiers still favoured the place. Men in grey uniforms were all over the place. The soldiers jumped up, when Ereg entered, but he only smiled and waved them to sit. He went to the corner table, where Nárion already waited, a lieutenant's insignia on his shoulders. He had been assigned to the equipment storage permanently because of his injury and had risen to a successor to old Aiwendil. He was very content in his place. They greeted each other, ordered some ale and sat, waiting Manceleb.

The fat man entered soon after. His belt had only lengthened during the years, but he was still as cheerful as ever. He was not in uniform, for he had left the army and become a merchant. He sat opposite the two soldiers. He winked:

"So, boys, it is twenty years since our glorious deeds! What about a toast?"

The others agreed and raised their tankards.

"To King Ondoher! To King Eärnil!"

They drank and began to speak of their experiences in the war and present life. After the fifth tankard they became louder and Nárion said that it actually had been glorious to be in the battle on Dagorlad. Manceleb immediately protested:

"Were you in the same battle as me? It was horrible! But now it is over, thank Eru. Let us sing!"

Ereg smiled. This was the yearly argument and equally regular song. The young soldiers watched in surprise, as two officers and a civilian became to sing in loud voices:

Like fathers once in battle falling

have repelling struck the East,

so we, the taken oaths recalling...


End file.
